The Pitfalls of Guilt
by aurelie
Summary: Reed has trouble dealing with his emotions, so he tries to take the easy way out until someone comes to the rescue
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One  
  
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed walked into the chemistry lab and looked around, misty gray eyes scanning its inhabitants. His broad shoulders sagged; his head hung low, short brown hair plastered to his forehead. Spotting the short brunette in a remote corner of the room, he walked over. Hearing his footsteps, the young woman looked up.  
  
"Hello, Lieutenant. Is there something I can do for you?" The strangely beautiful woman asked. Reed stopped walking and stood leaning on the wall that divided them from the rest of the lab. Still he did not lift his head, unable to meet his eyes with hers. "Is everything all right? Something I can help you with?" She further pushed. The few occasions she had been to the bridge and a passing glance in the hallway were all she had seen of the lieutenant. Still, even she could tell he didn't look right. To her, Reed looked sober, but drunk, and inexplicably disturbed. Eyes glazed over, he spoke, slurring his words:  
  
"Captain Archer wanted me to give this to you. He said to fix this stuff right away. If you wouldn't mind bringing it to my cabin when you are finished, I would appreciate it," he said, extending his hand to give her the PADD. She nodded her head, and then glanced at it. The hydrated hydrochloric acid was not the most complicated formula she had seen, but it was close.  
  
"What are you going to do with this?" she asked.  
  
"Trying different fuels for the phase pistols," he absentmindedly said.  
  
"Well, it will eat through the shielding, won't it?" she countered.  
  
"That's what we're trying to find out, Ensign," Reed coldly replied. She was a little taken aback by his tone, but then his mournful gray eyes pierced her own. They were almost a complete oxymoron to his voice. There was something wrong with them, but she couldn't tell what.  
  
"I'll have to call for clearance to make this particular acid--it could cause serious danger to anyone who handles it. It's pretty lethal stuff. Could burn your skin right off. Wouldn't want any accidents on board," she said. She started to reach for the comm, but he verbally stopped her.  
  
"But I got clearance from the captain. Isn't that good enough? Do you really need to get clearance from anyone else?" Reed seemed to nervously ask, staring at the floor.  
  
"No, Starfleet regulation says I have to run it through the computer and then get permission to make hydrated hydrochloric acid from my commanding officer. I can run the check right here. Surely the captain would have entered the data in the computer by now," she said, moving toward the small, busied computer a few feet away. The blue light emitted reflected off her face, as page after page flashed before her eyes. Reed still stood by the door, though he started to nervously twiddle his thumbs. Seconds slowly ticked off the chemistry lab clock, and the minutes dragged out infinitely. After what seemed like and eternity to Reed, her voice broke the silence. "Ok, Lieutenant looks good to me. Let me just call Commander Nortel and I'll get this thing started," she said, quickly exiting the room. Another period of waiting ensued, but Reed wasn't nervous this time. Everything was going to work out . . . You're such a coward. I don't think you'll do it. No, you won't. Taking the easy way out like a scared little bastard. If you were half the man your father was you wouldn't even be here. . . Such a bloody coward.  
  
"Excuse me, Lieutenant?" the ensign had returned and stood looking confusedly at her superior. Reed snapped out of his daydream, face slightly blushing.  
  
"Nothing, nothing," he quickly said. "Did Nortel ok it?" he asked, brushing away the strange looks the woman shot at him.  
  
"Yes, sir. It will take me about an hour to make. I'll bring it by the armory when I'm done," she said, beginning to pull various plastic-labeled bottles from open cabinets.  
  
"Actually, as I said earlier, I'd prefer if you would drop it off in my cabin." The ensign's brow furrowed deeper, but she nodded slowly. "Aye, sir."  
  
***  
  
Reed lay on his back, staring at his ceiling. Never did get around to hanging those posters. Not much point in doing it now. Pineapple rinds littered his floor, mingled among six days worth of dirty laundry. PADDs were absentmindedly thrown about his two small tables, armory reports neglected. Reaching above his head, Reed pulled down a plate from the kitchen and rested it on his stomach. The disgusting hamburger lowered up and down, synchronized with his breathing. He closed his eyes and his mind began to wander far, far away. A sailboat, his parents, a submarine, and water . . . lots of water. The serene blue liquid wove in and out of cove after cove, until it finally washed itself out to sea. And that was what he was most afraid of. There was nothing there but water as far as the eye could see. Space is exactly like water. You can drown. But I can handle space or at least, I thought I could.  
  
"Never did understand what you Americans saw in hamburgers. Revolting food, in my opinion," Reed said, opening his eyes. The ensign stopped, surprised, and dragged her feet to a sloppy attention.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I thought you were asleep. I was just going to leave this on your table," the same woman stuttered, dropping a medium-sized bottle of blue liquid on the cluttered table.  
  
"Thank you, Ensign. You've been a great help," Reed replied, removing the hamburger and standing.  
  
"I hope the acid works out for the phase pistols, sir," the woman said, turning to leave.  
  
"Goodbye, Ensign," Reed called, her back disappearing behind the closed door. Sighing deeply, Reed replaced himself on his bed and rested his chin on his hands. He watched as the blue liquid stabilized itself inside the bottle, meniscus finally coming to a rest halfway up the jar. He had decided long ago not to wear his uniform or tidy his cabin; everything he once resembled and embodied was gone, so why pretend? He had messed up, and he knew it. You deserve nothing better than to die like those you killed. They had no time to preserve themselves in memory, so why should you? As his mind drifted back to that failed mission, tears choked his throat. Just get it over with. Do it now or you never will. Slowly, he stood, reaching out his hand to grasp the bottle. Carefully he removed the seal on the top, and stared down at his death. This is almost like the ocean. You're drowning yourself. He smiled ever so slightly at the faint and sick irony. He lifted the bottle to his lips, and closed his eyes.  
  
***  
  
Ok, that was weird. What was he doing and why did I have to bring that stuff to his cabin? Why wouldn't he want me to bring it to the armory? The ensign briskly walked down the corridor and away from Reed's quarters. Bringing the PADD she was carrying to her face, she stared at the screen. Don't mess anything up. Even if you are new, they'll be riding your ass if you make a mistake. The two page procedure flashed back and forth, the ensign checking and rechecking the form. She let out a sigh of relief, but then sucked it back in. Shit! You didn't get his signature. He has to sign it to get it, idiot. Making a sharp turn, the woman headed back toward Reed's cabin.  
  
***  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but I forgot to have you sign the . . . WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING??" The ensign had entered the cabin, head bowed, but shouted when she lifted it. The lieutenant stood, two feet away, acid poised on his lips. Before Reed had time to react, she reached out her arm and sharply smacked the jar away. Broken glass shattered across the cabin and the acid ate through the carpeting, curls of smoke rising from the ground. Both their chests heaved up and down; Reed's from coming so near to death and hers in sick realization that she had helped him come so close. It was a moment before either spoke.  
  
"What the hell did you do that for?!" Reed breathlessly shouted.  
  
"What did you expect me to do? Watch you kill yourself?" she angrily countered. How could he even think of doing something like that? Why would he do that? Reed didn't know what to do. She had ruined his plan, his strategically designed demise. Consumed by a strange wave of relief and at the same time a torrent of hate, the lieutenant sank to the ground. He bowed his head on his incoming knees, and simply rocked himself. "I'm calling Dr. Phlox," the ensign said, wanting the difficult situation out of her incapable hands. Reed sharply raised his head.  
  
"No, please, don't. Please, you can't tell anyone. You know what they would do to me if they found out? Please . . . don't," Reed begged, voice no longer loud or angry, but soft and defenseless. The ensign stopped and looked at the pitiful and broken man before her. Shit, what do I do now? Maybe I should wait a while before I call Phlox; it might just freak him out more. I still can't believe he would try and pull something like that. What was he thinking? What were you thinking? You should have known something was wrong when he asked you to bring the acid to his cabin. You helped him and he almost . . . The silence was deafening as Reed looked imploringly at the woman and she stared at the charred ground. After not moving for several minutes, they came to the mutual and silent understanding that she would do what he asked and at least wait.  
  
"Why would you try and do something like that?" she finally asked, head shaking slightly in disbelief. Reed replaced his forehead on his knees and for a moment the ensign regretted her decision to not call the physician. Sensing the woman's uneasiness, Reed tried to force the words out of his mouth to appease her. He couldn't even tell the crew what his favorite food was, how was he going to show someone he'd never met the darkest and deepest places of his soul? But he had too, he needed to. The ensign apprehensively waited while Reed searched himself for away to answer her question. As he though back, the first part of his story began to spill from his lips...  
  
***  
  
"You'll never get it right, you have to focus and pay attention! Are you even listening to me now?" A man not much taller than the fourteen-year-old Malcolm said. "How do you ever expect to pass your naval exam when you can't even handle a skiff? Don't you want to be in the Navy?" Malcolm rolled his eyes at the question his father asked.  
  
He didn't understand at all. No, he didn't understand the ingrained fear that possessed him. And how could he? Ever since the day he was born, his father had been shoving naval shit this and naval shit that down his throat. Of course he wanted to be in the Navy, he just couldn't. Just get me out of here! He'll never understand. How could he? He thinks I was made for the sea. How many years have I wasted trying to ignore it? It'll never go away. But he expects me to carry on the family tradition . . . What am I going to do?  
  
"Hello! Malcolm!" The words registered in the young man's head as his father slapped the back of his skull. Biting his lip to refrain from retorting, Malcolm rubbed his head. "We'll be out here all day before you get this right. How many times do we have to go over this? Release the pulley then pull the sail. How hard is that to remember?"  
  
"Sorry, dad," Malcolm less than half-heartedly said.  
  
"What did I tell you about ship protocol? I'm not your bloody father, I'm your commanding officer and I expect that much respect. The most important thing in the Navy is rank. With rank comes respect and that's all you need your crew for their respect. They're not your friends; your commanding officers need you to look down on and you need your men for the same thing. Don't ever confuse friends with crewmen because only crewmen belong on a ship," the man said, face red from shouting so much. Malcolm was used to his speeches, though he tried to pay attention to the monotonous words.  
  
"Yes, sir," Malcolm said.  
  
"That's better," his father replied, sighing all too familiarly. "Let's try this again. You grab that rope and I'll watch the pulley." Malcolm nodded and reached his arms up. Styrofoam dug into his neck as he extended his arm to try and grasp the rope, though it dangled a foot from his reach. Rolling his eyes, the other man walked over and pulled the rope down to within reach of his son. "Why do you wear that bloody thing anyway? I bet if you just tried to swim you would get used to it. Why are you so afraid of water?" Malcolm's father said, half disgustedly and half ignorantly, stabbing his son in the heart.  
  
"I'm not afraid of the water, I'm afraid of drowning, sir," he meekly said.  
  
"Well why don't you learn how to swim and then you won't drown?" his father retorted.  
  
"You don't understand. You wouldn't put someone with claustrophobia in a coffin; it's not the coffin they're afraid of, it's the space. The same thing with me. I'm not afraid of the water, just of drowning. I thought we already talked about this before and you said it didn't matter..."  
  
"I always thought you would grow out of it. It's such a stupid thing to be afraid of, especially if you're going to be in the Navy," he said, taking another jab at Malcolm.  
  
"Today you're going to get over your fear. Come here."  
  
Malcolm stiffened, but didn't move.  
  
"Why? What are you going to do?" he suspiciously asked.  
  
"You don't question your commanding officers, you do what they say! Now come here!"  
  
Slowly Malcolm stood and strode the five short steps to his father's side next to the edge of the boat.  
  
"Swim to shore."   
  
Malcolm looked in sheer disbelief at the man next to him.  
  
"Sir, I can't swim and shore is twenty-five kilos away!" he hopelessly tried to reason.  
  
"I didn't ask for the distance to shore, I told you to swim it! Now get in!"  
  
"Respectfully, sir, I'm not going to," Malcolm said, slowly beginning to walk backwards. Eyes wild with anger, Malcolm's father grabbed the scruff of his life jacket and brought his face close to his son's.  
  
"Oh, yes you are," the man said. Retracing the few steps Malcolm had taken backward; he reached the side of the boat and, with a splash, threw his son overboard.  
  
***  
  
To Be Continued. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"I never forgave my father for that. What little there was between us was gone. He let me sit there for two hours, floundering in the sea. I spent the majority of the time convinced I was going to die. Can you imagine? Fourteen years old, sure my father was trying to kill me," Reed said, drifting out of the past. He shook his head, trying to laugh off his misery. The ensign stood, staring directly at the man on the floor. 

_My God, I had no idea_. He didn't return her gaze and instead stared into obscurity as he continued. 

"Sometimes I wish he would have. That would have been better than telling him I wasn't going to join the Navy. I expected him to yell and scream and lecture, but he just stood there looking at me. I'll never forget that look like I had stabbed him in the heart. He turned around and that was the last time I saw him. I tried to contact him, but he would never answer, or if he did, he simply hung up. As time went on, I grew to hate him. Isn't that horrible? I hated the old man. I hated him for not understanding. I hated him for not accepting me. But most of all I hated him for not loving me. I mean, how could he? Nothing he did for me was out of love or compassion; it was out of sheer determination to make me exactly like him. That's the funny part, I'm the exact opposite," Reed sighed. 

He looked up at the ensign. Her soft brown eyes were mere slits, allowing a few unstoppable tears to roll down her cheeks. He wanted to stop, wanted to prevent her from crying, but he couldn't. He had to finish, had to make someone else know the truth. 

"I suppose he hated me too, especially after I joined Starfleet. I had failed him, and he would hold that against me forever. Still, deep down, I always thought he would come around; accept me for who I am. He never did. Honor, rank respect, instead of love, compassion, sympathy. After my first year at the Academy, I stopped calling, stopped trying. I didn't care, he was dead to me." Reed paused, tilting his head back, reliving what he had most tried to forget. 

He didn't look at the ensign for fear her face would prevent him from continuing. 

"Two weeks ago, the Captain called me to his quarters. I thought it was to review security postings, but it wasn't about business. Malcolm, I have some news… about your father.' Right there I knew what he was going to say. My father had died. Ironically, he drowned. It was in the middle of a storm and my father went out to detach the sail. A wave crashed against the boat and carried him away. They never found his body. At least he was buried at sea; he would have wanted that. I didn't know what to do. I hated a dead man. I hated my own father. You can't imagine what it feels like to completely hate someone, and then you find out…" 

The ensign winced as soon as Reed told her what the captain said. It seemed like the entire scenario was happening to her, and when she came to the realization it already happened to Malcolm, her soul shuddered. 

"Of course I will never forgive myself. He did teach me about protocol and gave me the skills I needed to command men. But that's not what I wanted. I would gladly trade this job for scrubbing plasma converters if he had just once said 'good job' or 'I'm proud of you.' But he never did, and now he never will." Reed started to gain momentum as he talked, beginning to forget the ensign was present. "How could I hate him? He's my own father, and now he's dead. I'll never get the chance to talk to him or say 'I'm sorry.' I should have kept trying, should have tried harder. I just can't believe I let myself hate him. I let him die hating him," Reed stopped talking, staring blankly into space. 

The ensign had not moved the entire time, horrified and dismayed by what met her ears. Her heart ached trying to imagine what Reed was describing-- his shattered life, his unfathomable pain.  
  


"Lieutenant, I . . . I don't know what to say. I am so sorry, so sorry… But you can't really think that what happened was your fault. I mean, your father abandoned you. You shouldn't feel guilty about what happened. No one would blame you, how could they? After all your father put you through, it was only natural what you felt--"  
  


"It's only natural to hate your father?" Reed said, looking at the ensign.   
  


"After what he did to you, what he didn't do… You can't blame yourself for this."   
  


"It's a little late for that, Ensign," Reed replied, putting his head in his hands. The ensign moved from her place and knelt down in front of the lieutenant. She took his hands in hers, making him look directly into her eyes.   
  


"You tried to contact him, you did everything you could. He didn't want a relationship with you, and you can't blame yourself for the way someone else feels or thinks. None of this is your fault. You have to believe me, nothing, none of it is your fault," the woman whispered, trying to reach Reed's blocked heart. Reed just shook his head and turned it away. Letting out an exasperated sigh, the ensign fell back on the floor, releasing his hands and letting her mind wander. "So is that it? Is that why?" she softly asked. Looking into her eyes, Malcolm shook his head.  
  


"No. That's only half of it."  
  


***  
  


"Ok, sir, the torpedo is ready," armory ensign Pola answered. He sealed what remained of the hydrated hydrochloric acid in a jar, saving the rest for the next test.  
  


"Are you sure you filled it completely with the correct specifications? If this test works out, it could be the discovery of a whole new energy source," Reed said, double checking the ensign's work. Pola nodded and stepped back to allow Reed to inspect the torpedo. Waving in satisfaction, Reed snapped the lid of the torpedo shut.   
  


"What effect do you think this would have on living things? We're not actually going to use it on people, are we?" Pola somewhat timidly asked. Reed shook his head.  
  


"No, I would never dream of using something like this on actual people. According to my estimations, this thing could wipe out entire races, and their deaths would not be enjoyable. No, this is only intended for construction or fuel," Reed answered. "Get this in torpedo bay one, and the captain will signal us when it is time for the practice launch."  
  


"What are we aiming at, sir?" Pola questioned.  
  


"Trip's going to release some of the scrap from the ship and we're going to target that. The scrap would be similar to elements this could be used for mining," Reed matter-of-factly said. Pola nodded, pushing the large cylinder into the cramped bay. Sealing the door shut, the torpedo was ready to fire. Reed turned to look at his PADD wanting to log the information, but the lights went dim and his vision obscured.   
  


"_All hands prepare for battle. Lieutenant Reed, report to the bridge immediately_," Hoshi calmly said over the ship intercom. Dropping his PADD on the nearest table, Reed rushed out of engineering and toward the ship's elevator. Archer briefed him upon his entry to the bridge.   
  


"Apparently the Klingons don't like us orbiting this planet. Guess they think they have a dominion over it. They've told us to leave, but we can't contact our landing party. Just in case-"  
  


"They're targeting our engines, Sir," Reed said, interrupting the captain and taking his post.  
  


"Polarize the hull plating and take evasive maneuvers! Break out of orbit if you have to!" Archer shouted. Reed and Mayweather complied with the orders: the lieutenant by raising the shield, and the ensign by putting the Bird of Prey in between _Enterprise and the planet. A blue force left the side cannon of the Klingon vessel. Before Reed could issue a warning, the ship was violently shaken and sparks flew carelessly in the air. The shock knocked several of the bridge crew from their seats. Reed's head hit the floor as he heard an agonizing scream come from a crumpled heap four feet away. Crawling from his station down the two-foot drop, Reed flipped Mayweather over and stared at the injured man. Blood gushed from a gash in his forehead and he lay eyes closed, unconscious.   
  
_

"Somebody call Phlox up here now!" Reed shouted putting pressure on Mayweather's head. Hoshi lifted herself from the ground and called the physician over the intercom. Reed reluctantly left the ensign in the care of two other crewmen to retake his post. "That directly hit our impulse engines, Captain. Hull-plating is down eighty-two percent," Reed reported. Archer shook his head, cradling his broken arm.   
  


"Fire phase-" Archer attempted to order his armory officer but the ship was shaken by yet another blast. Reed managed to stay at his station and assess further damage.   
  


"Minimal damage, hull-plating down ninety percent."  
  


"Fire phasers, now!" Archer ordered. Two continuous beams of red energy left the earth vessel and impaled themselves against the Klingon ship. A small, yet hopeful explosion showed itself on the view screen.   
  


"The phasers hit the edge of their EPS manifold. They can no longer go to warp," Reed stated.   
  


"Their weapons?" Archer asked.  
  


"Still online… they're charging them again!" Reed nervously said.  
  


"Fire torpedoes!" Archer screamed. Putting no thought behind his actions, Reed automatically did as he was told. No sooner had he entered the coordinates and fired the two torpedoes did he remember what was in the torpedo bay one. Holding tightly to his stomach, Reed watched in sick realization of what was occurring: the experimental torpedo that held more power than the whole arsenal put together, was pushing itself toward a populated vessel. Even though it was the Klingons, Reed prayed he would miss his target. The Klingons jerked their ship to their starboard port, trying to avoid the missiles. Reed couldn't tell which torpedo was which, but when one cleanly missed the right wing, he heart leapt. He didn't look ahead to watch its path, but instead followed the other's trail. With a grisly bang, the second torpedo slammed into the tail of the Bird of Prey. A small explosion shook the ship, but the already damaged manifold suddenly burst into flames, cremating the entire vessel. The initial explosions were minimal, and Reed decided it wasn't the experimental one. Forgetting about the Klingons, he turned his head to his console to determine the other torpedo's trajectory.   
  


"Oh my God…" Reed whispered staring at his console, not wanting to see what he was reading. Archer looked quizzically at his lieutenant.   
  


"What is it, Reed?" he asked. The armory officer didn't move, didn't appear to even hear the captain. His pale face simply sat staring at the flashing numbers and symbols. "Malcolm, what's wrong?" Archer demanded, racing to his side.   
  


"The other torpedo… it's going to…" Reed tried to answer.  
  


"It's going to what? What's it going to do?" Archer hollered. The lieutenant didn't move, his face becoming paler and paler, his stomach churning uncontrollably. Shoving Reed out of the way, Archer tried to decipher the readings appearing at his station. Reed heard the captain curse almost inaudibly, and nodded his head when the captain gave him a hopeless look. "How much time before it hits the planet? Won't it burn up in the atmosphere?" Archer calmly asked.  
  


"That isn't a normal torpedo; it's the one with the hydrochloric acid. The acid will prevent it from blowing up because it has a high boiling point and the friction of the atmosphere will only get to about 4500 degrees centigrade," swallowing hard, Reed gave the report. "ETA two minutes."   
  


"Where's it going to hit? What's the population?" Archer asked turning to T'Pol.  
  


"It will hit almost directly in the capital of that planet. Population roughly three point two thousand, not including the four in the landing party," the Vulcan replied, voice completely void of any kind of desperation. Archer's fist slammed down on the console as the bridge fell deadly silent.   
  


"Hoshi, contact the landing party. See if they respond," Archer ordered. Moving her hand to finger her earpiece, the ensign's pleas for the landing party to respond went unanswered.   
  


"They aren't responding, Captain," she whispered.  
  


"Keep trying!!" Archer screamed. Flinching, Hoshi resumed her hails.  
  


"Can you hit that thing with another torpedo or with the phasers?" Archer asked, looking squarely at Reed. Without looking back, he slowly shook his head.  
  


"Phasers wouldn't do it and there's no way the torpedo I shot would catch up with the other one."  
  


"How much time do we have left?"  
  


"Forty-five seconds," Reed barely managed to say.   
  


"Is there anything we can do?" Archer shouted, looking at his crew. Each in turn, even T'Pol, bowed their heads. The seconds dragged on as the timer on Reed's console dwindled despairingly. Reed's eyes were fixed on the view screen, his body shaking with convulsions.   
  


"Sir, I am sorry…"   
  


"Shut up, Lieutenant!" Archer growled. Reed's breath started to come in short, desperate gasps as the torpedo got closer and closer to his target. Ten… nine… eight… seven… six…  
  


"Sir! I've got the landing party!" Hoshi joyfully said smiling despite the other three thousand doomed to die.  
  


"Send the coordinates to the transporter room now! Archer to Rostov! Beam up the landing party at the coordinates being sent to you, and hurry," the captain swiftly said. The entire bridge turned to stare at the screen as the ship was shaken with a slight tremor. Looking up, Reed saw a murky blue cloud mushroom up from the ground. Nothing could be clearly seen as the haze from the tremendous explosion covered the entire north-western quarter of the planet. Reed couldn't move. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. But he could feel. 

As Reed watched the cloud explode upward into the sky, he watched his soul incinerate with it. His own vision became hazy as the view screen went out of focus. Swaying slightly in his chair, he felt someone grab onto him. The same person drew his face close to theirs, screaming, but the words were mute. Eyes fluttering to the back of his head, he passed out.   
  


***   
  


"You killed them. You killed them all. Three thousand. How many women? How many children? A totally defenseless people slaughtered like pigs. You murdered them. You murdered them while they slept, while they ate, while they played. All of them are dead. And it's all your fault." The strange gold-scaled man repeated the same chilling words slowly, each one stabbing Reed's very essence. "You killed me. You murdered my family-- my wife, my babies. They are all dead. There won't be a tomorrow; there won't be a next week or a next year. I will never get to see my babies grow up because they're dead. You murdered them. You stupid son of a bitch!" 

The alien reached out and clubbed Reed, blood following his hand as it streaked across the lieutenant's face. Reed didn't try to avoid the punch, allowing the man to inflict whatever damage he wanted. Grasping his head with his hands, Reed stared at the blood and wished there was more. Slowly he began to notice the alien was pummeling his fists into his stomach. The pain he felt seemed dull and insignificant; he didn't care. Suddenly, Reed felt a keen slap on his face, hurtling him backwards. Lying on the ground, he looked up at the alien. What looked like tears streaked its face.  
  


"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I--" Reed stuttered.   
  


"You're sorry for what? Forgetting what torpedo you had? Committing mass murder? Killing thousands of innocent people? Is that all?" the alien sarcastically replied. Reed tried to apologize, tried to remove the weight of guilt off his chest. Every word the alien had said, and everything he said to himself weighed down upon him like nothing he had ever felt before--suffocated, unable to breathe. Reed had never felt pure despair, relentless guilt, and such disgust in all his life. _How could you forget? How could you not remember? Countless people are dead and it's all your fault. How many more are dying right now? Can't you hear them screaming, crying out in pain? You made them so. Their tortured bodies are littering the streets, disgusting corpses you put there. Children are crying, looking for their parents. But you killed them and they will never find them. How many lives did you destroy? How hard is it to remember what you have in the launch bay? Look at them! Look at them all writhing in pain, screaming in agony. That should be you. You deserve nothing better than to die just like them. How could you?_ Looking up, he saw the alien was gone, and he was surrounded by complete and utter darkness. He began to call out into the night, words sputtered, choked with tears and pain.  
  


"I'm… sorry. Please forgive me… please don't hate me. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to kill you. I'm so sorry…"  
  


"Lieutenant…" a raspy, familiar voice called. The lieutenant's eyes trembled open. Phlox, the captain, and Trip stared down at the sobbing man. When the observers perturbed and dismal faces came into focus, Reed wished he hadn't opened them. The last thing he wanted was his two superior officers and his friends to see him bawling like a baby. He wanted to be left alone in his sheer misery, to punish himself for what he had done. Closing his eyes, Reed hoped they would all leave, all be gone. But in his tortured heart he knew they would always be there, if not today then tomorrow or next week. He would have to face them eventually… just not now.  
  


"Come on, Lieutenant. See if you can sit up," Phlox urged. Pulling his hands to his sides, Reed reluctantly lifted himself up. A short gasp escaped his lips as he looked around the crowded, yet fatally silent sickbay. Gold-scaled bodies littered the floor and the biobeds, and in the corner of the room, lay four cylindrical containers draped with white sheets. None of the beings were moving. "No, they're not dead, Lieutenant. Just asleep," Phlox reassured him, seeing the morbidly distressed look on his face.   
  


"Then it wasn't a dream…" Reed whispered almost inaudibly.   
  


"If you mean killing three thousand innocent, defenseless people, then no. It wasn't a dream," Archer breathed. Reed started to apologize but stopped when he beheld the captain's face. No apology he made would be sufficient enough to wipe the absolute rage and disappointment from his eyes. Reed looked to the doctor and then to Trip, but he could read neither of their faces. _They blame you too. Because you are responsible._ An uncomfortable silence sounded through the room, making just three of them squirm. "There will be a full inquiry into your actions in two weeks once we reach Jupiter station. Until then, you are relieved of duty," Archer icily said. He turned to leave but stopped. "You screwed up, Lieutenant." Reed cringed at his captain's last remark as he disappeared behind the door. A few silent minutes slid away before anyone spoke.   
  


"Lieutenant, you appear to be fine. However, I would like to keep you under observation for the next few hours," Phlox said. Reed nodded but didn't turn his head. A moan escaped one of the aliens and Phlox rushed over to aid it. Trip stared at Reed who appeared to forget he was present.   
  


"Malcolm, don't listen to what the cap'n says. We all make mistakes. It's not all yer fault. You jest did what you were told. He's jest upset 'cause he knows it's partly his fault… Malcolm? Malcolm can you even hear me?" Trip gently said. Reed tried to appear emotionless but a few stray tears betrayed him. He glanced again at the four sheet-draped cylinders.  
  


"What are those?" he asked, voice slightly cracking. Trip followed Reed's gaze, but snapped his head back when he realized what he was looking at. Reed looked at him questioningly, but Trip just shook his head. His light chiseled face stared straight ahead, trying to hold back his emotion. Reed moved to get off the bed and see for himself, but Trip extended his arm, shaking his head once again.   
  


"Don't," the engineer simply commanded. Reed shoved his hand out of the way and walked over to the forbidden objects. "Malcolm, you shouldn't," Trip warned. He moved between Reed and the large containers, wanting to spare his friend a second blow. Reed furiously shoved him again and lifted the white sheets. Grasping his mouth, he stumbled back in surprise. Mangled, bloody, soupy body parts filled the four large saucers. If it wasn't for the shredded uniforms and almost indistinguishable pips, Reed wouldn't have known it was the landing party. "We tried to beam them up, but they got caught in the explosion," Trip said, answering Reed's unspoken question. Wave after savage wave shook the lieutenant's body as his emptied his stomach onto the floor. _Four more.__ That's four more people you destroyed._ Cradling his head between his knees, Reed started to sway again. Trip reached out to steady his friend as Phlox rushed over.  
  


"Get back into bed, Lieutenant," the physician ordered. Stumbling and tripping over his own feet, Reed climbed back into his bunk. A low hiss emitted from the instrument stuck his arm and his consciousness started to fade.   
  


"No, please don't put me to sleep! I don't want… to talk to… him… again." Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Reed succumbed to a tormented sleep.  
  


***

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"I couldn't handle it. I let my father die hating him, and in return I murdered thousands of helpless people. It was the first time I had ever lost control. And once I decided what I was going to do, there was no turning back," Reed said, starting to slowly kneed his fingers together. "When we got to the Jupiter station, Admiral Forest was waiting for us. He was a bit more forgiving than the captain, but still made it clear the entire scenario was my fault. Since I was really the only fully trained tactical officer, plus the experience I had gained on missions, he decided to keep me on Enterprise. I was relieved of duty for a month, which I am still on, and I had to write a formal apology to what was left of the colony. When we return home, I will most likely spend some time in the station's brig," Reed continued, faintly smiling at the prospect of being put in the brig instead of putting someone else in one. Reed looked at the ensign. She looked back. She wanted to strangle the man sitting before her, wanted to kick him and punch him, wanted to make him stop. The ensign didn't want to know any more-- she couldn't take it. What had spilled from the lieutenant's lips would stay with her forever, she knew that. What he had said would linger in the depths of her soul, festering until the day she died. But there was still one thing she didn't understand. The single question that lingered in the back of her head since the second she had walked in his cabin suddenly spurted from her mouth.  
  


"Why me?" A little taken aback, Reed thought through his answer.  
  


"When we got to Jupiter station, we took on extra personnel. You were the only new chemist. You had not been on board during the incident and it was decided that the events would be kept confidential. I thought it fitting to kill myself like the other thousands I had murdered, but hydrochloric acid isn't just lying around on the ship. Knowing that the other chemists would not even let me into the chem. lab, you were my only hope," Reed immediately regretted his choice of words on his last comment. "I am sorry to put you through this," he quickly added. "I'm sorry to make you listen to me ramble on and on. But I had to. I had to tell someone. I'm just sorry it had to be you. You didn't deserve this," he slightly smirked. "I screwed up again." That was it.  
  


Reed couldn't handle anything anymore. He tried to hold back his eventual sobs for after the ensign left, but the last dam finally fell, crashing down. The ensign crawled to his side next to the bed and clutched him, pulling him into her arms. She pressed his sobbing head against her chest, and hugged his body close to hers. Whispering slightly into his ear, she rocked him slowly back and forth. Reed squeezed her tightly, wanting to hold onto something pure, something innocent, something not marred by such unfathomable pain. He wanted to feel whole again, and in her arms was the closest he had come to that feeling in a long time.   
  


***  
  


Reed groaned and slowly opened his eyes. An immense whiteness appeared before him and he felt . . . strangely weightless; like something had been tying him down for the longest time and at last the rope was cut. Reed felt like he could move and think and feel, but most of all breathe. The white started to take form, but he couldn't tell what it was. _Why can I breathe? What happened?_ Then it all came flooding back: the acid, his suicide attempt, how he had told everything to the ensign . . . the ensign. She had listened to him. Every single word. And when he was done, she held him. Held him while he cried, while he let go of his guilt and washed it out of his soul forever. He was free . . . as he never thought he could be. Reed couldn't remember a time when he wasn't weighed down by such overwhelming remorse, and yet there it was, staring him in the face. And it was because of her. Because she listened. Sick bay glared at the freed man. What seemed like a rock sank to the bottom of his stomach. _They know._  
  


"How are you feeling, Lieutenant?" Phlox asked, walking over from behind the divider. Reed sighed. He tried to let his fervent joy not be replaced by the realization that what he had done would have severe repercussions. He had to find out what they knew.  
  


"What did she tell you?" he asked politely, though an underlying anxiousness was present. Phlox didn't seem to notice his tone and shrugged.  
  


"Nothing more, nothing less than I needed to know," he replied.  
  


"What did she specifically say?" Reed asked, irritation more evident. Fiddling with his instruments, the physician responded:  
  


"That you tried to commit suicide. She wouldn't tell me how or why, but she seemed very concerned and somewhat afraid you would react the way you are now." Reed sank his head back against the flat pillow.  
  


"When can I leave?" he asked, knowing the answer would not be good. Phlox sighed.  
  


"I would like to keep you overnight, and of course you will have to attend counseling. I'm not sure how long those lessons will endure, but don't be hopeful."  
  


"My post. Do you think I will be able to return to it soon?"  
  


"That is the Captain's decision."  
  


"Did you already tell him?"  
  


"Yes. He wants to see you as soon as you are ready to talk to him. Shall I call him now?" Reed closed his eyes. The last time he talked to his captain hadn't gone so well and he was in no rush to give their conversation another chance to fail. _If I never talk to him, it'll be too soon. _It wasn't that Reed disliked his captain, just the thought of trying to talk to a superior officer about things that, in his mind, was none of their business, didn't exactly thrill him. You better get it over with.  
  


"If you would, please. I guess I will." Phlox walked over to the comm on the wall and Reed heard him confer with Archer. Not a minute later, the tall man walked through the infirmary doors. Reed exhaled deeply and sat up. Archer stopped and stood next to the occupied biobed, and Reed couldn't read his face. Silence ensued as Reed shifted uneasily and the doctor continued to busy himself with unnecessary jobs.   
  


"Doctor, if you wouldn't mind leaving, I would appreciate it," Archer said, no emotion in his voice. The physician obliged and the doors swooshed shut behind him. Archer's eyes bore into Reed's face, but the lieutenant didn't return the gaze. "Well, are you going to tell me?" Reed paused slightly before answering. He felt like the captain already knew most of why he tried to do what he did, but some of it he was missing.  
  


"If you don't mind me being so blunt, sir . . . No," came Reed's simple answer. Archer didn't look surprised at his lieutenant's response.   
  


"You know, Malcolm, I am more than just your captain. I would like to consider myself your friend . . ." Archer left the sentence hanging for Reed to pick up. Reed knew what the captain was trying to do: guilt him into telling why he had attempted what he did.  
  


"That would be . . . nice, sir, but I still would like to keep this matter to myself," Reed replied, trying to avoid the trap.  
  


"Between you and the ensign, you mean," Archer corrected. Reed snapped his head to look directly at the captain. _Why the hell is he bringing her into this? _He had bared his soul to the ensign, but he didn't feel like repeating everything he said to her to the captain. But most importantly he didn't need to. It seemed amazing to the lieutenant that a woman he never met could bring him such . . . peace.  
  


"Yes, if you want to look at it that way, between me and her," Reed surreptitiously said.  
  


"I could always order you to tell me . . ." Reed noticeably stiffened, but replied:  
  


"And, respectfully, sir, I would refuse to follow your order."  
  


"Or I could order her." Archer looked straight into the lieutenant's gray eyes. "But I would much prefer to hear it first-hand from you." _Shit._ Reed sighed again, contemplating how to tell Archer in as few of words as possible.   
  


"Well," he started, exhaling. "It was really a combination of the circumstances surrounding my father's death, and the ummmmm . . . the incident at the planet with the torpedo." Archer's face didn't change.   
  


"Is that it?" he asked. Reed nodded, not caring to go into much more detail. "What circumstances?" Clenching his fists, the lieutenant tried to keep his cool.  
  


"Sir, I've already told you more than I'd care to, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would leave it at that . . . and not bother the ensign about it." Archer nodded.  
  


"I won't bring the Ensign into this, but eventually I expect you to level with me. It's not that I enjoy making you . . . relive anything, it's just that I like to know what's going on with my crew." The captain paused before continuing, wondering if he should continue with his train of thought. "You scared the shit out of all of us, Malcolm. No one ever expected you to do anything like this; you always had this tremendous sense of self-control and to see you lose it . . . I don't know." Archer paused, rethinking his position. Reed was somewhat in shock. The thought never occurred to him that doing what he intended to would have such an effect on anyone else. "I hope that this . . . experience might have . . . changed your mind about killing yourself. God knows we need you here." He paused again, hoping Reed would say something. Looking at his hands, the lieutenant spoke.  
  


"She helped me. She made me see. And the funny thing is, all she did was listen. That's all I needed, and yet I didn't see it. I feel . . . weightless now. Like I could fly." Archer nodded his head. He didn't know how the lieutenant felt, but he knew what he meant. He was going to be okay.   
  


"If that's all, Lieutenant, I have to return to the bridge."  
  


"Sir, when do you think I will be able to return to my post?" Reed quickly asked. Archer shrugged his shoulders.  
  


"I don't know, Lieutenant. Depends on your counseling lessons and the recommendations of the doctor. To be honest, probably not for another three or four weeks."  
  


"Yes, sir," Reed replied, disappointment lucid in his voice. Giving him a salute, Reed watched the captain walk out.  
  


***  
  


He heard the doors push open, but didn't lift his head and closed his eyes, not wanting any visitors. He wanted nothing more than to just relish what the ensign had given him.  
  


"Ah, hello, Ensign," he heard the doctor say. She didn't look at Reed immediately, but instead turned to speak to Phlox.   
  


"Good evening, Doctor," she replied. "Is it alright if I visit with the Lieutenant?"  
  


"It's fine with me, though it doesn't appear he is awake," he said, nodding. However, seeing the disappointment in the ensign's face, he added, "I was just about to go eat dinner, if you would like to stay here while I am away. I should be gone no longer than . . . an hour? Can you remain here that long?"  
  


"Yes, that would be fine," she replied, smiling. Reed sat up once he heard the doors close behind Phlox. Her smile widened when she saw him rise.   
  


"I thought you were asleep," she jokingly accused.  
  


"I thought you were the captain," he explained, returning her smile. Both chuckled, eyes locked. The laughter quickly died down, a comfortable stillness following.   
  


"Are you . . . ok?" she quietly asked.  
  


"I'm fine, better than I have been in a long time," he murmured. There was another pause, though this one less complacent. Bringing her hands together, the ensign slowly began to knead her fingers.  
  


"I am sorry . . . about calling Phlox and the Captain, but I had to. I was just worried about you and I didn't want you to try anything like that again. Plus, it was my duty to tell them. You can understand that, can't you? I never wanted to hurt you, just to . . . protect you I guess." The ensign never looked directly into Malcolm's eyes, trying to avoid what surely was anger.  
  


"I'm not mad at you, if that's what you think," Reed began, extending his hand. She took it and sat facing him on his biobed. "I was at first, I won't lie to you, but I am very glad you walked in when you did. Besides, I would expect you to tell Phlox and the captain." Reed deliberately paused, trying to put into words what he knew in his heart. "Ensign, I . . . I . . ." _Shit, how can you be this uncomfortable with a woman who knows so much about you? You told her everything and yet you can't even thank her._ He suddenly and forcefully grabbed her hands, and held them tightly in his own. She didn't seem to notice the pressure, and looked straight into his dusky, almost hypnotizing eyes. "You made me free." That was all Reed could utter, and yet it said everything. Gazing into his eyes, the ensign found herself gazing into his very soul, and she smiled at what she saw. The guilt was not there. It would never be there again. A wave of relief swept over the woman as she realized he was liberated from what had held him down for so long. Shaking her hands free from his, she cupped them behind his head and drew his face in close to hers. Their foreheads touched, and for a moment that lasted an eternity, they stared into each other's eyes. Both simultaneously pushed their chins together and their lips met. The kiss was long and gentle, simple and sweet. Reed reveled in the vast softness and warmth of the ensign, her velvety lips caressing his own. He closed his eyes, and lifted his hands to push her closer to him. Her hands slid down to his chest as she let herself be pressed against the lieutenant. Forever it seemed they were locked tighter, lips intertwined, hearts racing. Each inhaled the other's smell, memorizing it, tasting it. Eyes slightly fluttering, the ensign pulled back and stared once more into the gray abyss. Malcolm smiled back. She swept her cheek slowly back and forth across his slightly scraggy face, finally letting her head rest on his shoulder. "Thank you," the almost inaudible noise escaped Reed's lips. She lifted her head to face his again, smiling broadly.  
  


"You're welcome." Reed forged his lips against hers, his body quivering at her exhilarating touch. This kiss was more passionate, though it retained its tenderness. Their heads swayed unnoticed back and forth in opposition to the other, eyes closed, hearts thumping madly. Reed found himself clinging to her, just as he had done the night before. But this time it wasn't because he wanted to be comforted; it was because he wanted her. The lieutenant lifted his hand to caress her cheek, her forehead, her other cheek. The ensign felt herself becoming lost in a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, none of which she could sort out or cared to. The doors to sick bay flew open. Hands dropping immediately, and heads whipping to see who had entered, Reed and the ensign broke their affair. Trip's face blushed slightly as he stopped short in his tracks.  
  


"Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt anythin'," the commander sheepishly said, turning on his heels to go.  
  


"No, Commander, quite alright. The Lieutenant and I were just . . . talking," the ensign said, pushing a loose piece of hair away from her eyes, own face turning a muted shade of pink.   
  


"I just came by to see how ya were doin', Mal, but ya seem to be ok, so I'm gonna go," Trip said, slightly stuttering. The ensign lifted herself from the biobed.  
  


"No, really, Commander. I was just leaving," she said. "I'll come by later sometime, if that's alright with you," she declared, turning to Reed.   
  


"Yes, if you have time," Reed replied. Nodding faintly, the ensign hurried out of the infirmary. Reed smirked at Trip's raised eyebrow as the commander lowered himself into a chair.  
  


"And I thought you weren't doin' too well. My mistake," Trip said, chuckling. "Is she ah . . . the one who . . . ya talked to?"   
  


"Yeah, she is. How do you know?"  
  


"Briefed by the Cap'n a while ago."  
  


"I see. Does everyone know?" Reed inquired, somewhat afraid to hear the answer.  
  


"No, jest me, Phlox, the Cap'n, and T'Pol. And the ensign, of course. How do ya know her?"  
  


"I don't."   
  


"Oh . . . I see," Trip answered, a little confused and hurt. "Why didn't you come to me?" Reed was a little surprised by the question, but tried to answer him without totally destroying their mild friendship.  
  


"Well, I . . . I didn't really mean to tell her. I didn't want to tell her, I just did. It's not like I planned on it," he managed to say. Trip shook his head.  
  


"That's not what I entirely mean. You coulda come and talked to me about any of that shit that was goin' on. I woulda listened. It just doesn't feel that great when one of yer friends tries ta . . . and ya feel like you coulda helped." Trip looked straight into the lieutenant's eyes. "Don't ever do that again, Malcolm. Hell, ya scared us all half to death," Trip said, him and Reed softly laughing at his unintended pun. The commander's face suddenly turned serious again. "You can always come talk to me. Anytime, anywhere. I know yer dad filled ya with protocol shit, stuff about crewmen and how you can't talk to me 'cause I'm your superior, but hell! I'm also your friend. And far as I'm concerned, we both belong on a star ship…"  
  


*****THE END*****


End file.
